“So fucking hot,” he breathes over my stomach as he works my thong down my thighs. I glance down to find him staring up at me, his light brown eyes shredding into parts of me I don’t let anyone else get to. “There’s something—” his lips press over my hipbone and my back involuntarily lifts. Tyler pulls my thong from my ankles and tosses them to the side. “Something…” “Don’t,” I say threading my fingers through his hair. “Just,” I swallow. “Just don't.”
He fucks people for a living, Jemma. He’s a pro.
